


Welcome back, love

by Miss_Rust



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Buttplugs, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, GATSBY CURTAINS, LITERALLY, Light Dom/sub, M/M, POV Tormund, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Spanking, Summertime fucking, in summer, jonmundsummer2020, the bois be gay, this is just them going at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26183275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Rust/pseuds/Miss_Rust
Summary: “Missed you”, Jon mumbles, and Tormund lets his hand press gently, reassuringly, “Wanted to be yours the entire weekend.”“You’re mine, love.”“Yes, but. This. I needed this.”“I know.” Tormund grins, and he’s sure Jon senses it, “Knew the moment you came back home and jumped my bones, baby”In which Tormund and Jon jump each other’s bones after having been apart for an entire weekend.
Relationships: Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow
Comments: 9
Kudos: 112





	Welcome back, love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBearQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBearQueen/gifts).



> This is dedicated to my fren Sarah because I originally wrote this for her birthday but then sadly shit hit the fan with my private life so. Here I am. A little bit late but still with a lot of love. @TheBearQueen, thank you for being my fren i lov u bitch
> 
> Also thank you to @Louhetar for beta'ing me!
> 
> This is also for day 6 of Jonmundsummer 2020, hazy days.

He’s on his back, comfortably lying down. His upper back is slightly propped up on a pillow, but not too much, he’s still lying down. In a perfect position to stare at his boyfriend.

The sheets fall around them, the curtains blow into the room because the windows are open to let the sun in, but it is a bit windy. It’s cool but pleasant on his skin, bare under the sheets. It could be like in the movies, he presumes. Like the scene from “The Great Gatsby”.

Jon’s perched on his lap, his legs are cornering Tormund’s hips, and he’s mouthing somewhere around his pectoral. It’s sinful, entirely and utterly sinful.

He lets his hand wander down Jon’s back, as far as he can reach, and bucks up into the smaller body above him.

Suddenly, Jon is way too far away from him; he needs him closer, closer so he can kiss him, so he wraps his hands around Jon’s waist and tugs.

Jon goes easily, moaning, and Tormund grins. Jon loves being manhandled sometimes, seems like this is such a day.

He falls forward and has to brace on his arms, bracketing Tormund’s face, and they kiss. Finally. Missing Jon’s lips, Jon’s everything is a constant for him. It’s like he is addicted to him.

Their tongues are swirling together, a show of lips and teeth and plain hunger at play.

Jon’s lips are plush and warm against his, and he nips at them, happy when it yields a little moan.

He lets his hands wander further down his boyfriend’s back from where he was gripping Jon’s waist.

Jon receiving “best butt” in the high school rankings was deserved, he thinks. Tormund had laughed and nodded when he had found out a while back; it’s just so true. It’s round and perky, and firm right there, under his hands.

Letting his wrist flick, he listens as the resounding slap combines with his boyfriend’s whine.

He chuckles, caressing gently over the spot.

“Green?” He voices, keeping his voice low.

Jon nods and the small ‘please’ that escapes him is making the blood rush south.

Tormund lets his hands wander back up, over his sides, noting his boyfriends arched back. He can’t stop but grin smugly, and then even more when Jon tries to hide his face in the hollow of his neck.

“Now, what’s that?” he teases, “You’re doing so good for me, love.”

Jon nips at his neck in reply.

Ah. So that’s how he wants to play today. Shy, but still a bit of brat coming through.

He spanks Jon again, and then reaches further down, grabbing and pulling, so that Jon’s perched over his waist.

He could have Jon ride his face, the thought flits across his mind, but he quickly discards the idea.

No, today he just wants to fuck up into him, hold Jon’s hips in place and just thrust, no matter how much his brat wants to move.

And if he does, he might just flick his wrist again.

Jon moans loudly into his mouth when Tormund tells him. Seems like it is a good idea, after all.

“Get me the lube, boy,” he commands, “and then get back here, just like you are right now.”

He almost has to laugh at how quickly Jon scrambles to get to Tormund’s side of the bed, to find their lube. The bottle is near to being empty, Tormund notes, they should get some more when they get groceries later. Some condoms too, for when they don’t have time for a big cleanup.

He watches as Jon moves, every movement is so fluid, how the muscles work when his boyfriend bends, and oh, he didn’t have to lean over that way to get to the nightstand, that brat, he’s showing off.

Jon’s so good for him.

He’s Tormund’s adonis, his legs; his upper thighs are so thick and athletic, his stomach and chest, his nipples are dark, his goddamn everything-

Jon nearly stumbles on his way back to him, getting entangled in their sheets, but Tormund doesn’t want to chide him, not like this, not when his eyes are so wide and his pupils blown open with need. It’s endearing.

He reaches one hand out to steady his boyfriend, to help him settle across his stomach.

Tormund reaches for Jon’s jaw, pulling him down into a kiss again, gaining more speed and just plain desperation.

He groans into the kiss, feeling the smaller body of his boyfriend above him never, never fails to make him wild with lust. Tormund feels him shudder, and the other’s hands start gripping into his shoulders, bracing and just holding on. It feels so good.

“Lube, now” he gasps into his boyfriend’s mouth and grins when Jon immediately complies, and the bottle gets pressed into his hand.

He warms it in his hand first, and his other hand grips Jon’s ass cheek, kneading for a bit.

“Colour?” he asks, searching for Jon’s grey eyes.

“So green, Tormund, get a move on,”

Brat. He lets his wrist flick, once, twice, satisfied at the shudder and whine.

“Get a move on?” he teases, “Maybe I should eat you out first, hm?”

Jon looks conflicted, and Tormund has to laugh. He can never decide, sometimes, he’s way too indecisive, but it’s so endearing.

At the small ‘No’, accompanied with a pout, he grabs Jon’s chin again, pulling him down close.

“You sure?” he whispers, keeping his voice low and rough because he knows what it does to Jon, “I could.”

He gazes up into Jon’s eyes, searching for any sign of just, anything, but it seems like his boyfriend has his mind made up.

“Want your fingers, Tor,” Jon pants, and damn. Those are the patented ‘puppy-eyes’, Tormund cannot withstand.

Not that he’d want to. This is quite blissful, having Jon be like this. His, on his lap, being good. He’s always good. Not that he’d tell Jon this when he’s feeling a bit bratty when he needs this, when they play, but god, this man could not do anything wrong. He loves him so much.

“You stay like this, right here.”

He pulls Jon down, guiding him, letting him crumple and brace on his arms, and it’s so easy how Jon falls into an arched position like this. So good.

His access is way better like this, and he starts moving his hand down, rubbing over the exposed hole just to get Jon used to the sensation.

Not that he’s unused to the sensation, they fuck like, daily. But still. He’s going to take care of his boy.

He starts tracing the entrance, going in circles, round and round, and can’t help but chuckle when Jon pushes back into his hands. He feels, or hears Jon mutter something next to his face, and stops.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“That didn’t sound like nothing,” he digs deeper, still pausing.

He grins when Jon’s reply to that, obviously, evidently turns out to be a petulant ‘Get a move on, Tormund Giantsbane, or so help me-’

He proceeds to do precisely that, smug when it earns him a hitched breath and an even deeper arch.

Jon’s hot and smooth around him. Tight. It’s been a while, Jon had been gone for the weekend, visiting his family up North.

He’s going to have to be very diligent; there’s no way he can rush this. Tormund grasps for the lube, once again, never, never enough lube.

A thought crosses his mind, and he has to ask, it just makes his blood rush in anticipation.

“Tight, hm?” he turns his head so he’s whispering into the brunettes’ hair, “Didn’t touch yourself, while you were gone, did you?”

He curls his finger, searching for that spot-

“No” comes the hitched reply, and Jon’s legs twitch when he inevitably finds it.

“Good boy.” He positively purrs.

“Was waiting for you, missed you.”

Now it’s his time to shudder. God, that man is perfect. ‘And he’s yours’, he thinks.

Tormund drops a kiss into the dark curls, and presses his finger in deeper, as a reward.

He starts dragging his finger in and out, never failing to reach for Jon’s spot, to make it less painful, less uncomfortable. He tests, and probes, and soon he’s able to work in another finger, starting to scissor.

Tormund gets rewarded with a litany of small moans, and can’t help but buck up a bit at that.

“Can’t wait to fuck you,” he murmurs. Jon drags his head closer, smushing their cheeks together, nodding wildly. Still can’t lift it up yet, to kiss him, Tormund presumes, and way too out of it to make sassy comments. He likes Jon like this. Blissed out, happy.

Three fingers, maybe four, until he gets to do that though. He doesn’t want to test the limits, to not hurt Jon at all, if possible. He tests a third, but not yet, still too tight- more lube.

Jesus Christ, he’s so hard already. Jon’s so fucking perfect above him. So warm and tight around his fingers, he can’t wait to have him sink down on him. His cock is so hard, so so hard for his brat.

Maybe telling Jon might be letting go of his dominant position, but he doesn’t care. It’s worth the shudder, the small whine; the gasped ‘Tormund, fuck’ when he tells him how much he needs Jon.

And he does. Bit by bit, Jon loosens, the tension lifting from his back, relaxing into his touch.

He can’t get over the feeling of their chests touching, Jon’s rather hairless pectorals against his own, much more furry chest.

He’s got three fingers in now, and Jon’s loose around him, but it’s not enough. If he hurts Jon now, no. No no. He refuses for that to happen. He tests for another one, and god, it does fit.

It does. Jon’s wrecked against him, already.

“Gonna’ be good for me, baby?” He turns his head and whispers against Jon’s ear, now much more closer.

“Yes, yes, please-”

Tormund pulls his fingers out, leaving just his index, giving a last little stretch, tracing around Jon’s rim.

Jon’s moving now, searching for his lips, and Tormund gladly obliges. He lets his tongue slide along Jon’s plush, velvety lips, pushing past them. He lets go of Jon’s ass and lets his hand trail down to where he’s hard and aching. All the slick. He grabs more of the lube, coating himself generously.

Quickly, when he’s done, he drops his hand down and wipes it on their sheets, not wanting to get any on Jon’s hips.

Then, he grabs them, lifts, and pushes Jon down his body, and then Jon’s finally, finally where he belongs, in his lap. And Jon does exactly what Tormund wants, perching just there, above his length.

He’s a vision, creamy white skin against his own, freckled skin. His thighs, there’s so much strength there. His curls have grown so long now, past his shoulders in a cascade that could make the Niagara falls weep in envy. His face, eyes, brown pupils blown wide open, mouth open, his tongue flicking against his lips in anticipation.

“Gorgeous” he whispers, pausing to take everything in, just because he can.

“Tormund, fuck me, come on.”

Impatient brat. Can’t Jon see he’s being worshipped? Tormund grins.

In reply, he just takes his cock into his hands and lets the head of it trace Jon’s hole.

“You want this?”

“Yes, come-on” Jon hisses, and Tormund can sense he’s getting impatient.

“Brat,” he grins, and lets his hand move, again, three times quickly in succession. Giving in to the need to spank his defiant little thing. Not that he’s that small, but he’s Tormund’s little thing.

And then, just because he can, and because he honestly can’t wait anymore, either, he just grips at Jon’s hips, and pulls him down, in one sweep motion.

They both groan, and Tormund knows exactly why, because in this angle he just hits and slides against his boyfriend’s prostate. That’s why he likes having him like this, on his lap.

“Mine,” it just slips out, he didn’t even mean to. He does get possessive a bit, he supposes. It doesn’t matter though, Jon likes it. And he does everything for Jon.

“Yours” Jon whimpers back, and tries to move, but Tormund put up rules, he won’t let him.

“Ah, what did I say I was going to do?”

“Please-”

“Tell me, Jon,” Tormund smirks, he knows exactly how much Jon wants to reply, but the way he’s looking right now he’s a bit too blissed out.

“You-” Jon tries, and Tormund nods at him, encouragingly, “You’re going to fuck me, hold my hips and fuck me no matter how much I want to move back.”

“Exactly, love.”

So he just does. Jon feels so good around him. The wait to finally sink into him was hard, but teasing him feels even better, it’s worth the wait it takes to rile him up a bit more and to let Jon get used to him. It’s perfectly timed, like this, Jon doesn’t notice the stretch because he’s focused on their play, and gets them both even more turned on.

He uses his hands to move Jon in his lap, up and down, careful and slow, so that he doesn’t hurt him. Jon’s still so tight around him; it’s a snug fit.

Jon braces his hands on his abs, digging in his fingers, tense with trying not to move, trying to let Tormund move him rather than give in to his instincts and rut back.

“Doing so well for me,” he says, letting his eyes wander down from Jon’s heated, blushy face over his chest, his perky nipples and abs. Down to where Jon’s cock is pushing against his stomach, in a nice curve, already wet and leaking. Down to where his own steadily pushes into Jon’s heat.

Jon’s singing for him, moans and whines not held back at all, and he loves it. He supposes he should feel self-conscious because of the open windows, but he doesn’t. This is bliss.

At some point, Jon’s arms become unsteady, and his legs shake, and so Tormund lets one arm go from where he’s holding Jon’s hips to pull him into his chest, down, carefully.

He pushes his knees up, feet into the bed and starts thrusting instead, still holding Jon’s hips steady in an iron grip, with both hands now.

Jon must be close, he notes, all the usual signs are there, shaky legs, moans that have changed to small, quick pants, an iron grip on his biceps where he’s bracing.

His boyfriend is doing a marvellous job, marvellous, of keeping still, letting Tormund be in control, so he decides to let him come like this, no more teasing.

“You can come like this, can’t you?” He pants, “Need nothing else but my cock, come untouched,”

And he does. The rhythmic clenching betrays it, warm, wet spurts across both of their chests.

It turns him on so much. He’s close, so close now, and then-

White-hot pleasure and he pulls Jon down, needs to be close, as deep as he can get, grinding, just grinding.

He knows he’s hitting Jon’s spot like this, grinding over his prostate, and it might be too much, but he doesn’t care, Jon’s his. His to wreck.

They’re both coming down, slowly, and Jon’s finally lost his bite, Tormund finds. He’s glassy-eyed and blissed out, holding onto him.

Aftercare, now, for both of them. Jon likes to have him on top, to feel protected, so he does, grabbing his shirt at the same time to save them both the unpleasant feeling of cooling wetness.

He pushes up Jon’s legs, and apart so that he has more space there, still not slipping out.

The change of angle makes them both moan, although it’s not unpleasant.

He lets his hand wander across Jon’s stomach, up and over his nipples to come to hold over his throat, just resting there. Showing, demonstrating who’s in charge. And the small, happy smile? Flitting across his brat’s face is enough, enough for the butterflies to surge in his chest.

“Perfect” He mumbles, finally lying down, letting his entire weight drop on Jon, bit by bit, measured.

The sigh in reply is worth everything. That’s his boy, right there.

“Missed you”, Jon mumbles, and Tormund lets his hand press gently, reassuringly, “Wanted to be yours the entire weekend.”

“You’re mine, love.”

“Yes, but. This. I needed this.”

“I know.” Tormund grins, and he’s sure Jon senses it, “Knew the moment you came back home and jumped my bones, baby.”

He’s softened, mostly, but Jon makes this little move, with his hips at that, and it sends his blood boiling again.

He could get hard. But not if Jon doesn’t want to.

“Up for another round, baby?”

“Yeah”

The reply comes so quickly, and out of breath, and needy, Tormund’s not even surprised.

Jon wants him.

“What do you need?”

“You.”

“More specific, brat, if you please,” he props himself up, on his arm, his hand never once leaving the pale throat, and stares Jon down, just a bit.

“Wanna move now,” Jon says, “Want to, I want to be on my tummy, take me from behind.”

Ah. He knows precisely what Jon wants; he wants to have Tormund touch him while he fucks Jon.

That’s doable.

He thrusts a bit, just like this, to see Jon a bit more, see him stare up at Tormund with those doe eyes.

He’s flushed, still, sweaty curls in his face. But he looks like there’s something on his tongue, that he wants to ask, but too unsure. He knows that face.

“Jon, we had a deal, love.” Tormund smiles, taking his hand off Jon’s throat and bracing next to his head, so their faces are only inches from each other, leaving him enough space, but also assuming a what he hopes, non-threatening position.

“Uh-huh?” His boyfriend is distracted, he notes, eyes blown and dark and full of want.

“We had the deal that there’s nothing you can’t ask, and you look like you want to,”

“Uhhh”

Jon’s evading his eyes now, reddening.

He’s had trouble asking for what he wants, Tormund had found out, rather quickly into their relationship, so he’s made it his job to tickle it out of him, every time it comes up.

“What’s that, huh?” he drops a kiss on Jon’s lips, “What do you want me to do?”

“Can you spank me?”

That seemed like it was hard, and Tormund aches for his boyfriend. He’s so precious; he needs to protect him, show him that it’s alright.

“Like before?” he asks, gently.

“Yes, please,”

“So polite,” Tormund grins, and it earns him an eye roll. Good, the self-conscious is gone.

He’s fully hard, again, and a quick look down shows him that Jon’s too. He takes Jon’s lips, kissing him hard and deep, and using it as a distraction to sneak his hand down.

Jon has to rip away in his moan when Tormund touches him, so unexpectedly. He hasn’t yet, ever since Jon’s been back home. He loves holding, stroking his cock, Jon’s so responsive when he does it.

He has to pull out to get Jon on his stomach though, but he doesn’t particularly want to. It feels so good. He takes the liberty to push in, some more, lazily, maybe rile Jon up a bit more.

“Tormund”

“Yes?”

“Flip me?”

Oh, so that’s how it is. He wants the full display of power. He can do that.

So he does.

Jon positively squeaks when he flips him.

“Okay?” Tormund asks, as soon as he has Jon right where he wants him, face pushed down, back arched, on his knees with his legs spread.

Jon nods frantically into the pillows.

“Good.”

He decides that he doesn’t really want to wait now, at all, so he just pushes back in.

And Jon, Jon immediately pushes back, the brat.

He’s allowed to, though, so Tormund just starts teasing.

“Like that, huh? Make yourself feel good.” He commands, and Jon does. Oh god, he does.

He flexes his muscular legs and keeps pushing himself back, back against Tormund, rolling his ass into his groin.

It’s sinful.

And then, Jon’s request falls back into his mind. ‘Can you spank me?’ Jon had whispered to him not five minutes ago. And who is Tormund to deny such a sweet request?  
Jon’s ass is incredible. Round and full, and so blissfully creamy white. Not for much longer, he supposes, a small smile taking over his face, and starts stroking gently.

He lets his wrist flick.

“Fuck, yes” comes the groan from where Jon’s pushed his face into the pillow.

“You’re gonna be so red by the time I’m done with you, brat,” Tormund says, as if absent-minded, but his mind is going wild with the thought.

“I better.”

“Cheeky,” Tormund lets his hand come down a couple of times, quick in succession.

The resulting whine is perfect. Jon positively writhes on the bed, and it’s all pleasure. He doesn’t know how to contain it.

“Hold still for me, Jon. Be good.”

“Yes” Jon hisses, and Tormund caresses over the spot, feeling the warmth emanating from his skin already.

He thrusts lazily, watching Jon trying to get himself to be still, twitching in anticipation.

He waits a few moments more, and then flicks his wrist again, and again, until Jon’s reduced to a whining mess on their bed.

“Doing so well for me,” he sighs, starting to caress again.

The pleasure is starting to become stronger now, and he can’t suppress the need to take this faster any longer. He needs to fuck him.

He grabs at his boyfriend’s hips, pulling him into a deeper arch so he can move easier, watch himself slide in and out.

Pacing himself becomes hard, his hips are already stuttering but he tries to be consistent, but he cannot for the life of him stop moaning every time he thrusts.

“Fuck Jon-”

“Please-”

“I got you,” Tormund replies and reaches around, grabbing at Jon’s cock leaking already.

That nearly sends him over the edge, but he holds out.

“You’re already so wet for me, baby, leaking all over the bed like this. You like it?” He makes his voice drop low for that one, but he can’t keep from moaning breathily.

Jon only stretches his legs further apart in response and whines, trying to buck back into him and his hand at the same time.

He speeds up his hand in response, can’t have Jon wanting more and not giving. He needs to be happy and satiated, so Tormund loosens his grip, caressing and looping around the leaking head with his thumb, and occasionally his balls.

His boyfriend rewards him with starting to shake his legs; he’s coming close, so he leans down to whisper in his ear.

“I’m gonna come, baby-” Even though he isn’t that close yet, he knows how much the thought of him coming inside turns Jon on.

And it’s true. Jon shouts and whines and Tormund bites and moans and Jon comes, jerking wildly, clenching around him.

He groans, and starts going even faster, pressing down further into the bed until he’s overwhelmed too, pushing in as deep as he can when he finally climaxes.

They’re both panting heavily, and Tormund collapses to lie on top of his boyfriend, his Jon.

He nuzzles into his hair, pushes down and leaves so many kisses on his neck he can’t count.

A warm breeze lets the curtains fly into the room a bit, and over their sweaty skin. They shudder in unison, which makes Tormund grin.

“Shall I clean us up, love?”

“Yeah.”

He pulls out carefully and then starts kissing his way down, all the way down Jon’s back who giggles.

“I’m gonna check for tearing, baby,” he says, waiting for the nod that comes quickly.

He uses his index, inspecting and checking for any rips, but it seems like he was thorough with his prep. Jon writhes through the entire inspection, overstimulation taking root quickly. Cum is oozing out a bit and dripping, and Tormund relishes in the view for a bit.

“Want a plug?” He asks, stroking and kneading at the still rosy beaten cheeks.  
“Ohh, can I?” Jon perks up immediately.

“Yeah.”

God, this man will be the death of him.

He picks out one of their plugs, a rather big one and lubes it up.

“Want me to do the honours?” he grins, circling the hole with the tip of it.

Jon answers by lifting up his hips in an offer, arching. Tormund pushes the cum that’s still trickling back in with his thumb and then works the plug inside. It sits snuggly, right between those lush cheeks. He presses kisses to both sides, watching Jon keen.

Then he grabs and turns Jon over, using his shirt to clean off the worst of the sticky mess on Jon’s chest and the bed, and himself. He grabs the blanket and throws it over, and then rolls Jon onto the now dry, cottony surface.

He rolls in right behind his boyfriend, gathering him close decisively.

“Good?”

“Yeah”

Tormund kisses him, warm pouty lips against his own. This is bliss. It’s summer, and Jon’s finally home, he’s fucked his boyfriend into the mattress, twice already, with the promise of more since Jon has decided to wear a plug.

But now is not the time for such musings, now he can cuddle Jon into oblivion and whisper sweet nothings to him until the plug has worked him into a frenzy again. An hour tops. Maybe two. Maybe he’ll speed it along by dropping his hand between his cheeks and keeping it there, possessively. Jon’s particularly subby today, he’ll most likely love it and probably feel safe and cherished.

Thoughts for later, though.

Now they’ll cuddle.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope ya'll enjoyed it. What did u think? Tell me in the comments!


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